God is Dead
by Muffinsama
Summary: In his complete confusion, it didn't strike Shizuo as odd at all, that the first person he thought about after the world had apparently come to an abrupt end, was Orihara Izaya. - Shizaya
1. Chapter 1

Prompt from the durarara! kinkmeme:

Shizaya x L4D

Yes, I'd love to see a crossover with Left 4 Dead!  
>With Shizuo as Francis and Izaya as Louis :D<br>Shizuo and Izaya should stay in character (with their appearances and characterizes), I would love to see how they would survive a zombie apocalypse (even though it's just infected humans =P) and how they would survive to depend on each other~

* * *

><p>Something dull, hard and cold was digging into his back. That was the first thing Heiwajima Shizuo realized when he came to.<p>

A groan slipped past cracked, bloody lips as he sat up groggily and opened his aching eyes, immediately looking up and down his body and finding, to his great relief, that everything was still attached and in its right place.

It was dark and the fact that he couldn't remember how he had gotten here, and why he had been unconscious in the first place disconcerted him so much, that it was impossible to think clearly without a white veil of shock clouding his mind.

Sitting up, he reached behind himself to pull a broken pipe out from beneath him and looked around to find himself in an almost entirely collapsed building, the half full moon shining in through a hole in the ceiling, from where dust and small pieces of concrete were still raining down on him.

Utterly confused and with horror slowly expanding within his chest, he got on his knees and crawled towards the only source of light.

"Hello?" His yell turned out choked as he breathed in deeply and dusty air entered his lungs, tickling in his throat more so than the cigarettes he usually smoked. "Hello?"

The silence that answered him was deafening, and for most likely the first time in his life, Shizuo felt his heart speed up, racing uncontrollably with fear while he felt like someone had stabbed a knife into his throat. He felt sick to his stomach and he couldn't even explain why.

He got up, despite how tempting it seemed to just curl up and go back to sleep and hope that next time he woke up, everything would be alright again.

A headache throbbed within his skull when he raised himself and tried his best to remember what had happened. His very own brain defied him and his head only hurt more when he desperately attempted to piece the last things he could recall together.

He had worked – he had gotten angry – auburn eyes – the _flea_...

In his complete confusion, it didn't strike him as odd at all, that the first person he thought about after the world had apparently come to a sudden, abrupt end, was Orihara Izaya, his worst enemy and the only person he thought deserved to die under circumstances as horrible as the situation he was currently in.

Another groan climbed up his throat and sounded foreign to him as it was thrown back at him by the unsteady walls.

A threatening screeching sound was all the warning he got when a few feet away from him, the ceiling gave in to gravity and large pieces of it came close to hitting him in the head. The blond man was not sure whether he could say that he was lucky that he hadn't been knocked out again or squashed, considering he didn't know what awaited him out there.

He was sure, however, that he had little time left before this whole place caved in on itself, and it took him a tremendous amount of strength to get up, ducking so he wouldn't hit his head on some of the pipes protruding from the raw walls like daggers from a fallen warrior's chest.

He ran down a crumbling flight of stairs, slipping on rubble and almost falling several times, before making it outside just as the building collapsed almost entirely, leaving nothing but the plain iron structure, so that it looked like a skeletonized corpse, a beacon of despondence in a fire illuminated night that smelled of death and decay.

For a moment, he could only stand there, catching his breath and looking at the destroyed building he had just managed to escape out of, while he clasped one hand over his mouth and nose to somehow make the stench more bearable, only to realize that his own hand was soaked in blood he could now taste on his lips.

He took a few seconds to examine the patches of skin that weren't covered by his slightly torn and ripped bartender suit, finding scratches and red purple _bite marks_ on his arms.

Since this was all just an incredibly disturbing dream, or so he tried to tell himself, he disregarded his minor wounds and decided to take a look around.

He almost felt like he was in one of those stupid, unrealistic horror movies he and his classmates had watched in high school as a trial of courage, and he had somehow wound up as the main character, who, against his better judgment, and much to some audience's distress and frustration, was exploring what had happened, instead of just running for his fucking life.

Climbing over a flipped, burnt out car, Shizuo blindly started walking into one direction, all the while trying to recognize exactly where he was.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew Tokyo like the back of his hand, and from the Japanese signs and commercials everywhere, he thought it was safe to assume that he was still in his hometown, or at least somewhere in Japan, but he couldn't seem to recognize the streets, much less the almost entirely destroyed buildings.

Never letting down his guard, he tried not to give in to the panic growing within him, as he walked seemingly nowhere, the night sky above him devoid of stars to wish upon.

He was usually totally fine on his own, sometimes he even preferred being alone to constantly being surrounded by people who only talked about themselves, their problems – which were always far, far worse than anyone else's – and seemed to be under the impression that he was just dying to hear their opinions on just about anything.

Right now, he wouldn't have minded either of that, because the most terrifying thing about this situation by far wasn't that he didn't know where he was or what had happened, it was that he seemed to be entirely on his own. The last survivor.

And just as that very depressing thought crossed his mind, he abruptly came to a stop and closed his eyes to concentrate on the sound of approaching footsteps.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he shivered, sensing danger before it was too close to him, and although he hardly believed he had anything to be worried about, seen as he was sometimes called the strongest person in Japan, he decided to take refuge behind several large garbage bins.

Light steps came closer, halting and resuming to walk, before hesitating again. The interval of silence between each step grew smaller, as the person the steps belonged to broke into a run, almost inhumanly fast, though Shizuo could hear the person breathe heavily, as he passed his hiding spot.

Daring to crane his neck and look into the direction the steps had come from, Shizuo immediately knew why that person had been running like the devil himself was after him.

They looked harmless at first, just a couple of dark silhouettes standing out against the orange tinted edge of the horizon, but the way they climbed over dilapidated buildings that had most likely been completely intact only a couple of hours ago, bending their limbs in ways that were impossible for humans, gave away that those weren't other people searching for answers.

Each and every one of their movements gave them away as cruel predators hunting their prey, way before the blond man could hear their angry howls and grunts as seemingly thousands of footsteps swept past him menacingly.

He swallowed and didn't really know what to do, his hands shaking, while his brain was trying to make sense out of what was happening. They seemed to be human, but they brought with them a foul stench of putrefaction that made him feel dizzy and nauseous.

Their cries and screeches were deafening, and the blond ex-bartender covered his ears, instinctively shielding his head in the process, all the while wondering if that person that had come rushing past him was one of _them_, or someone like him, who didn't know what the hell had happened and had been caught off guard by those_ things_.

Shizuo couldn't even think of a right way to call them, because there was no denying they weren't human. At least not anymore.

He had to _do_ something. He couldn't sit on his ass forever, because sooner or later, they, whatever they were, would discover him and he'd be in trouble if he was still just sitting there in petrified shock.

Slowly, he crawled out from where he was hiding, scratching his knees open on rocks and car parts that littered the cracked streets.

The mob of dark figures had stopped about 50 meters away from him, forming a circle around someone or something, and just thinking that a human being could be trapped by them and about to get killed made him run towards the crowd blindly, forgetting about his fear and confusion.


	3. Chapter 3

His shocked brain just told him that those were the bad guys, without any real proof or reason, and ordered his limbs to move, while he felt like he wasn't even really part of this moment, as if this was someone else's body moving towards what seemed like certain death and he was merely watching.

He barely registered a few of the dark figures going down, others backing away uncertainly, as he watched an ominously glinting blade soar through the air, stabbing seemingly randomly, while the knife's wielder moved fluently, almost like he was performing some kind of war dance.

Feeling his heart throb within his throat, he tasted bitter recognition on his tongue when he realized that he had seen someone move like this before. Elegant, graceful and utterly deadly.

On impulse, he almost joined the mob of creatures in trying to beat the dark haired man up, but upon getting closer to him, he not only noticed that the flea was seriously struggling not to take too much damage, something Shizuo had never gotten to witness, but he was also noticed by the grunting, screeching beings, their menacingly glowing eyes focusing on him in a way that made fear snap through his body as if he had been struck by lighting.

Adrenaline came rushing through his veins and he pulled his arm back and punched with more ferocity than even when the flea was his target. His life was in danger and therefore his body reacted.

Not that his life wasn't in danger when Izaya pulled out his deceptively small, yet very sharp knife, but he was _used_to the flea threatening him with sharp, pointy object. He wasn't used to random people attacking him without any reason.

His fist was almost like a bowling ball, as it smashed into the mass of beings and knocked down most of them, while he saw from the corners of his eyes that the flea was doing his best at fighting the creatures, doing an amazing job for someone who didn't have super human strength, although Shizuo knew from rather painful experience that Izaya wasn't as weak as his fragile built had first led him to believe.

They fought, until their breathing had turned heavy and their clothes were soaked with sweat and splatters of blood, until their muscles burned from the effort and their necks hurt from constantly looking behind them to make sure those things wouldn't sneak up on them.

Those things just kept coming and coming, and for each one they managed to take down, at least 2 new ones ran towards them to try to kill them off with their bare claw like hands.

Shizuo almost yelled in surprise when something solid and warm bumped into his back and a foreign mop of hair tickled his neck. Turning his head abruptly, he was surprised, and slightly disgusted, to realize that the flea was barely able to stand and was trying to keep himself upright by leaning his back against Shizuo's.

"Flea, what are –" He punched a hoody clad creature in the face and felt slightly nauseous from the feeling of bones breaking beneath his knuckles.

From behind him, he heard the louse breathing heavily, while still managing to cut up some of the creatures and the debt collector realized, that this was actually the most efficient way of making sure he wouldn't be attacked from behind. It was a sickening thought none the less to think that Orihara Izaya of all people, was protecting his back.

There was hardly any time to ponder about how strangely right it actually felt to cooperate with the flea for once, and how efficient they seemed to be together. Slowly, the crowd cleared, piles of unconscious – maybe dead – beings surrounding them.

A hand grabbed hold of his arm and yanked on his ripped shirt harshly and he raised his fist, fully expecting to see another half rotten face glaring at him and stopped his punch just in time to not hit the louse in the sweaty, extremely pale face.

"Let's go!" The informant yelled and ran towards one of the smaller alleys, blindly rattling on locked doors, until he found one that was unlocked and the two of them stumbled into what looked like an abandoned storage room.


	4. Chapter 4

For at least two minutes, they just stood there – or knelt in Izaya's case – breathing heavily and trying to calm down.

From the corner of his eyes, Shizuo watched the flea rise form the grimy, oil stained ground and look around the room and realized that Izaya had several scratches and cuts on his body, and that he was holding what looked like a bleeding bite mark on his neck.

"Were you bitten?" The informant asked without turning towards him, scanning the shelves with his eyes for anything useful.

It was only then that Shizuo even thought about checking if he himself was injured, only to find that, save for a couple of insignificant scratches and a couple of purpling bite marks, he was fine.

"Yeah, I think so." The blond answered, taking hold of his upper arms tightly to stop himself from trembling. "Is that...bad?" He found himself asking in a pathetically small voice, like a small child asking his father whether swallowing chewing gum could kill him, _after_ swallowing the piece of candy.

He felt far too helpless to care about how pitiful it was to depend on the louse for words of reassurance, or some sort of explanation.

"You're a monster, ne? You should be fine." At least Izaya hoped so, because he had been bitten, too. He reached out one hand to push several cans of paint thinner to the side, in search for something, _anything_ that could be used as a weapon.

"What the fuck is even going on here?" Shizuo finally found the courage to ask. He hadn't dared to ask until a couple of seconds ago, because he felt like the second he asked this question, he would acknowledge that this situation was real and by default, it would become real because he had deemed it reality by talking about it.

"...dream. It's gotta be a really bad dream. There's no other explanation." Izaya was meanwhile mumbling to himself, picking up a rather tiny wrench and dropping it the next second with a loud _clang_ that made both of them jump in alert.

"What the hell are you babbling about? D'you really think this is just a bad dream?" He followed the movement of the fur trimmed hood of the flea's coat and almost found comfort in the familiar sight.

"Well, you're in it, so what else could it possibly be?" Was the snarky reply he got in return and even though it pissed him off, it was nothing unexpected. Trust Orihara Izaya to still be an asshole, even when the whole world had changed completely and turned into hell. But it at least reassured him of the fact that it hadn't been wrong to try to chase the louse down and beat him up each time he saw him for all these years.

The blond debt collector moved to the other side of the small room, busying himself with searching the shelves so it wouldn't seem like he was just standing there, doing nothing, completely overwhelmed by the situation, while the louse was doing his best to adapt. Like hell was he going to admit that he kind of admired how composed Izaya managed to stay.

"There's not even food." Izaya finally sighed frustratedly, sliding down the wall into a sitting position. He tried to make it look like he just saw no point in standing up straight, because he didn't want Shizuo to know that his knees had given out under his weight, unable to keep him up any longer as the adrenaline induced strength boost wore off.

"How can you think about eating at a time like this? Shouldn't you be worrying about...I don't know, about those, those _things_ finding us?!" Shizuo barked indignantly, turning to face the dark haired man who managed to smirk shakily.

"I can't say that worrying on an empty stomach is my specialty." Izaya remarked quizzically, running a hand through his sweat damp hair, combing his fingers through dark strands that clung together with drying blood.

"So you worry when you're not hungry? Tch, yeah right." Shizuo said sarcastically, wondering what the hell they were even doing talking about such insignificant things while there were hordes of monsters out there, just waiting to murder and possibly eat _them_.

The flea moved into a kneeling position, rubbing his stomach through his torn shirt almost provocatively, as if to send some kind of subliminal message that was meant to make the ex bartender suddenly produce food from behind his back


	5. Chapter 5

"You're seriously hungry...at a time like this?" Shizuo inquired skeptically, expecting the informant to be pulling some kind of stupid prank just to troll him, although that seemed highly inappropriate given the circumstances.

"Yeah..." Izaya answered hesitantly, sounding like he meant to add something else but had thought better of it before the words could leave his mouth.

"You're a disgusting louse." Shizuo stated half angrily, half in wonder. "We could've died just a few minutes ago and you're seriously thinking about food?!" It came out as a furious accusation.

"Excuse me for being a normal human being!" Izaya hissed in defense, while Shizuo resisted the urge to hit _himself_ in the face for chuckling at the irony of the informant explaining his abnormal and absolutely _not_ human reaction with the fact that he was 'a normal human being'. "I –"

"...you?" The ex bartender urged the informant to continue after a moment of tense silence.

"I was with a client when those things suddenly ambushed us. I was quick enough to escape them...he _wasn't_." Izaya hesitated for a moment and then continued, his voice sounding just a little rough. "I saw them tearing open his body and ripping out his intestines."

Shizuo grimaced at the rather detailed description, asking himself all the more how the louse could possibly feel hunger or even thirst when he himself felt nausea swirl in the pit of his stomach just thinking about what the flea had seen with his own eyes.

Just as the nausea settled down again, it dawned on him.

"Oh, so you had to throw up. I guess even you would react that way." And in a twisted way, that was almost too human a reaction to fit the flea, whose ruby eyes always sparkled with joy whenever he managed to paint the blade of his switchblade red with blood.

"Spare me your protozoic attempts at analyzing my character. Given the circumstances, your stupidity is not nearly as amusing as usually." Was the informant's almost surprisingly harsh and derisive remark, as he gathered himself up off the ground as well as he could, considering that his injuries were starting to get to him.

"Is that really necessary?" Shizuo asked darkly, a frown marring his handsome face, though it was one of bitterness, not of fury.

"Is what necessary?" Izaya shot back, leaning against the wall heavily, cradling his right arm and breathing shallowly, because inhaling made his side sting horribly.

"Well...you being a dick, is that really necessary?" The blond man grumbled sourly. "Why are you looking for a fight when, for fucking once, we appear to be on the same side."

Izaya's laugh sounded decidedly shrill, hysterical even, as he coughed, gasped and giggled to somehow express delight he couldn't fool either of them into believing he really felt.

"Beautifully said. Really, you have a way with words." He sighed and a small smirk still clung to his lips."Y'know, if I'm being too much of a 'dick', then you should just leave. S'not like I'm forcing you to stay."

"Like that'd be of any use to either of us." Shizuo tilted his head in question as he watched the shorter man struggle to stay on his feet. Hearing Izaya say such unreasonable things, especially at a time where his brains were definitely needed, caught him by surprise and unsettled him.

It wasn't usual for Izaya to openly express anger like this, especially since, for once, Shizuo hadn't done anything the informant could have gotten mad at him for. So either this was the younger man's way of hiding weakness, since he was obviously physically injured and emotionally unsettled, or he had only just now realized that all of this wasn't just some dream or hallucination, and he was trying to restore some semblance of normality.

"Don't need your help...don't ever –" Sliding down the wall, the informant once again sat on the floor, landing far less gracefully then before, when he'd still had enough willpower to try to seem like he wasn't affected by any of this.

Blinking blearily, the informant hissed as he dragged a hand over his side while he breathed far too quickly, barely exhaling as he greedily sucked air into his lungs, maybe to remind himself of the fact that he _was_ still breathing at least.


	6. Chapter 6

Whatever the reason, it freaked Shizuo out, although he kept a calm face while he knelt down to inspect the louse up close. He couldn't use a flea that was injured and going insane. He needed the bastard to stay as calm and composed as he had been just a few minutes ago, because together, their chances of surviving – whether that was even possible or not – were obviously a lot higher then when they both wandered around on their own and fell victim to the violent creatures lurking in the dark.

"Hey." He ground out, having trouble finding a tone of voice that sounded at least a little reassuring. The smell of blood mixed in with the scent of slowly drying sweat and the cool, refreshing smell of the informant's cologne – or body wash, or after shave, or whatever the hell he used – hit his nostrils and only served as another reminder of how bad the situation really was.

"Oi, calm down." Shizuo said lowly, impatience making him tense, as he fought hard to keep in the urge to simply punch the louse in the face for making _him_feel so helpless, while at the same time, he was awkwardly trying to soothe the informant in some way that might restore his capability of thinking logically.

Either it was the fact that Shizuo was intruding on his personal space – the blond man's face was merely 10 inches away from his, inspecting him curiously – or the ex-bartender's half-assed attempt at comforting him, with barely contained anger turning even those words harsh, but the flea's breathing only quickened, until his gasps sounded almost asthmatic.

"Hey." Without knowing what to do, Shizuo touched a coat clad shoulder, blood stained fur tickling his palm, feeling Izaya jerk away from his touch as if he had burned him, though that didn't make the blond man pull back. "Pull yourself together."

The debt collector's voice cracked with desperation, knowing that he had no control over everything that had happened and everything that was happening now, and the fact that he couldn't even get the flea to calm down a little only made the hopelessness invading him spread through his whole body more quickly, robbing any positive feeling away from him and slowly breaking his spirit.

"Calm down, take a deep breath." Izaya did neither, though now the debt collector couldn't even blame it on the informant's obstinacy, he could only blame it on his own inaptness at making anyone feel better. Surely he should have expected this, considering that all he was ever good at was destroying.

"Breathe with me." He suggested, refusing to give up. He leaned down, awkwardly placing his head on the flea's shoulder so the louse would be able to hear him taking in a long and deep breath, before exhaling just as deeply and waiting a few seconds before inhaling again.

Surprisingly, the louse instinctively started to mimic his breathing pattern after a few moments, the silence between them unbroken by the city noises they had grown so used to, that this eery hush scared them senseless and made them feel like they were completely alone on this planet, which they might as well be, since the rest of humanity had vanished and had been replaced by blood thirsty monsters.

As soon as the flea started to squirm away from him lightly, the blond ex-bartender knew that he had calmed down enough to remember to be repulsed by how close they were to each other.

"Better? Are you going to freak out again?" Shizuo asked with no intention of sounding offending, though the sour glare the younger man shot his way immediately told him that he could have paid more attention to what he was saying, although that was the least of his concerns now.

"I wasn't freaking out." Izaya stated curtly, one hand cupping the back of his neck, where he had a rather painful looking cut. Pulling his hand away, he looked at it, transfixed by the slimy shimmer of blood on his fingers.

"Right, whatever." The debt collector said dismissively, deciding not to call Izaya out on this, just to make sure things stayed as peaceful as possible, at least between the two of them, since the only way the flea seemed to know how to deal with this, was by being an even bigger asshole than usually. "We should look if we can find something to treat your wounds."


	7. Chapter 7

Izaya didn't seem to be too happy about Shizuo insisting on making such a big deal out of his 'weaknesses', but he kept his mouth shut since there was no denying that he could use some medical supplies right about now.

"Right, so lets check the shelves for anything useful. Maybe there are some tools in here. Anything to defend ourselves with." Shizuo called out form the other side of the room, his gaze quickly taking in all the useless stacks of paper and office supplies on the shelves. From across the room, he could hear Izaya mumbling some grumpy retort.

"I'm pretty sure we're not going to find any medical supplies in here. Our best chance would be to check one of the cars outside, by law there should be a first aid kid in the trunk of every car." Izaya finally stated tiredly, without moving from where he was hunched over one of the lower shelves, rummaging through a box.

"Well let's check anyway. I don't really feel like going out there right now." Shizuo grunted, turning to the left to give the informant a disapproving stare from the other side of the room and accidentally knocking over several boxes containing metal screws and nails.

They both flinched violently as the nails crashed onto the floor with a loud clutter and rolled all over the ground. Izaya's disapproving stare was softened by the paleness of his face and the fear of alerting the violent beasts just outside in his eyes.

"You fucking clumsy protozoan." The dark haired man hissed viciously, turning to present Shizuo with a full glare this time. "If you continue to make so much noise, they're going to spot us!"

"It wasn't on fucking purpose, you damn louse." Shizuo replied heatedly, his voice barely above a whisper as well. Something shiny caught his eye on the shelf he had just emptied accidentally. With trembling fingers, he instinctively grasped for it, feeling cold metal meet his sweaty, sore skin.

In the dim light, he could hardly make out what exactly he was touching, but he picked it up anyway by what appeared to be a handle of some sort. His little finger slipped into some sort of tunnel at the front of the cool, smooth item and suddenly he knew exactly what he was holding in his hand.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed, inexplicable relief washing through him. He ignored Izaya's perplexed stare and simply continued gazing at the item in his hand, not even noticing the informant approach with slow and wobbly steps.

"Let me see." Izaya murmured when Shizuo didn't move to show him what he was carrying.

"It's a gun." Shizuo muttered, vaguely puzzled by the prospect of holding a firearm in his hand. He never had before and it suddenly felt odd that he hadn't. After all, he had been involved in gang fights most of his early adulthood, and it felt odd that it was such a big deal to him all of a sudden.

He held it into the ray of light that made it through a crack in the door. Izaya actually whistled.

"Not bad. That's a magnum you got there. Pretty powerful, low capacity though." It was Shizuo's turn to look impressed.

"You know stuff about guns?" He asked, turning the magnum in his hand and sliding his thumb over the barrel in an almost loving manner.

"I'm paid to know." Izaya said cryptically. "You can shoot 8 times with this thing before you need to reload. It deals quite a lot of damage with just one shot. Certainly enough to at least slow those _things_ down. We may even be able to kill them with this."

Izaya reached out with his hand expectantly and made a grab for the gun, only to grasp thin air, as Shizuo pulled it just out of reach suddenly.

"What are you doing?" The blond debt collector asked suspiciously, throwing the informant a skeptic glare.

"What does it look like? I wanna try this thing out." The informant said, wonder briefly flitting over his face, before he had full control over his expression again.

"Woah, I'm not giving you a gun that might be loaded." Shizuo insisted, pulling the weapon out of reach when Izaya reached for it once more. The informant's hand curled into a fist before uncurling and disappearing somewhere at his side. In the dark, it was hard to see it and the debt collector could somehow imagine that Izaya was flipping him off.

"I think out of the two of us, I'm the one who can be trusted more with a loaded gun. You don't even know how to use a firearm, not to mention your short temper might get me shot for some petty reason." Izaya sighed, cocking his eyebrows in an undeniably condescending way that made Shizuo feel a lot shorter than he actually was and almost made him forget that it was the informant who had to look up in order to look him in the eyes while they talked.


	8. Chapter 8

"Right, so you can shoot me right here and now without anyone witnessing." Shizuo frowned while flipping the weapon in his hand.

"That would hardly give me an advantage at this moment. I never thought there'd be a time where I wouldn't be delighted by the prospect of you being shot dead, but right now...I don't know if you've noticed, but there are some weird, supernatural beings after us and I'd rather face them with you than on my own. So the smart move would be to give me the gun, since I know how to use it. You should be fine, you're the one with the freakish strength after all."

"Well, maybe this is a set up." Shizuo mused grimly. For Izaya, it was almost funny to watch him think this hard, because he could almost literally see the oily, rusty wheels turning very, very slowly.

"A set up." Izaya repeated, his mind already thinking of any possibilities of this being some sort of elaborate prank. He shuddered briefly, thinking about the bloody mess his client had turned into half an hour ago.

"Yeah, you set this up so you could lure me into a trap and kill me without any witnesses." Even to Shizuo, this theory sounded really faulty, but it was his turn to let fear consume him just a little, after keeping such a tight grip on his self control for so long. Maybe it was pathetic to say that he would have almost been relieved if this was really a set up by Izaya to troll him one last time before he killed him off.

Against Izaya, he knew how to defend himself, but with those beings out there, who had undoubtedly been human at some point, he had no idea how to approach them without getting his head – or any other part of him – bitten off.

"You're kidding me, right?" Izaya scoffed, taking a wobbly step towards the ex bartender in order to prepare his next attempt at taking the gun. The hand Shizuo had assumed was flipping him the birdie all of the time was pressed over the informant's bleeding side and even in the dim light, he could see blood still seeping slowly from in between Izaya's delicate fingers. "Why would I destroy all of Ikebukuro, pay hundreds of people to re-enact 'Dawn of the Dead' and get myself seriously injured just so I could kill you. If I wanted you dead, I'd just fucking take a gun and shoot you."

"Well, then why haven't you already?" Shizuo asked stoically, though inwardly, he felt ashamed for making stupid assumptions.

"Why haven't I what?" Izaya asked wearily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and wincing in pain.

"Shot me. You had plenty of opportunities whenever we ran into each other." The blond scowled at the informant.

"Am I really supposed to explain to you why I have not pulled a gun on you in the middle of a fucking crowded street and shot you?" Izaya sighed wearily, letting his body sag against the wall behind him. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and closed his eyes in clear distress.

"You okay?" Shizuo had the decency to ask, although it was more a reflexive question, than one he had put thought into and had posed in order to let the informant know that he cared about his physical condition.

"Yeah, just getting a little dizzy." Izaya answered, his voice sounding constricted. "Keep the fucking gun, I don't care as long as you don't put a bullet through my head. Let's just...quit being jerks to each other for 5 minutes and look for things we can use to survive."

Shizuo crossed his arms, the sudden peace offer coming as a surprise to him. He didn't quite know whether Izaya was trying to screw him over or wanted to come across as more mature than him, but he was sure of one thing: that he wasn't going to just reconcile with the flea now, after all these years of animosity. It took more than some weird catastrophe to fix what was wrong with their relationship, or at least Shizuo convinced himself that it did.

"...please?" Izaya added in a small voice, looking more pale than before. Small drops of sweat were gathering on his temples and soaking into his dark hair.

"Okay, fine." The blond debt collector finally agreed. "So we need some sort of first aid bag, I guess. We walked passed a bunch of cars on our way in here and you said there should be one in the trunk somewhere, right?"

"Yes. I'm fairly sure that it shouldn't be too hard to find a med kit around here. And even if we don't, the hospital isn't that far away. With the gun and my knife, we might make it. Assuming there aren't more of those things in the ER, just waiting for someone to stroll in." Izaya explained, pulling his switchblade from seemingly nowhere.

"Right, as if you are going to make it that far, all torn up like that. You can barely stand." Shizuo said dismissively, the informant shrinking under the condescending glance that was thrown his way.


	9. Chapter 9

"Well excuse – " Izaya stopped abruptly when the gun was thrust his way and he was suddenly staring right down the barrel of the magnum. His arms rose weakly in a reflexive stance of surrender. He did a great job at keeping his voice neutral, even while his eyes glistened with fear."What are you doing?"

"Help me check if this thing is actually loaded. You know how to do that, right?" Shizuo asked, lowering the gun. He felt vaguely smug for scaring the shit out of his arch enemy, although his conscience told him that it was really quite the dick move.

"Don't threaten me with that thing, you fucking idiot." Izaya growled, his eyes narrowed with resentment. He swallowed down all the hateful things he originally intended to say, promising himself that he would let them out at some point later on. "Turn it around."

Shizuo reluctantly did so, letting the informant examine the clip, though he never once relinquished his hold on it entirely, never realizing that the gun was actually pointing at his chest the entire time.

"It's loaded." Izaya concluded, lowering his hands enough so Shizuo felt safe enough to let go of the barrel and turn it around in his palm again. "You know, I could have shot you just now. I could have just pulled the trigger and the bullet would have gone through your hand and into your chest. But I didn't. You really ought to trust me more, don't you think? I also just let you know that the gun is loaded. If I had told you that it wasn't, you would have either refrained from using it, since you would have been convinced that it was useless anyway, or thrown it away, at which point _I_could have grabbed it and killed you with it. So really, I'm no threat to you at this point. I honestly think we should work together."

"Honestly?" Shizuo scoffed, taking a couple of seconds to take in the massive amount of information Izaya had just crammed into a couple of sentences. "Since when have you ever been honest? Besides, the fact that you thought of all these things in such great detail makes me think you considered pulling the trigger or lying to me about the gun not being loaded, which actually makes it even harder for me to trust you."

What really unsettled Shizuo though, was not something he wanted to admit to Izaya so freely. Because the thing that really bothered him, was that firstly, he had never thought that far ahead when he had let Izaya touch the gun so carelessly, and secondly, Izaya's mind worked in ways Shizuo couldn't even begin to understand, and all these ways of outsmarting him Izaya had managed to come up with in the blink of an eye really fucking scared him.

"You could have at least given me credit for not actually doing it." The informant had the nerve to mope, biting his lower lip briefly.

"Oh yeah, congratulations on not dispatching of me the first chance you got. At least you've proved that you really do think that keeping me alive and by your side is the best course of action at the moment, if only to save your own scrawny ass." The blond grumbled. He turned towards the door of the storage room and slowly walked towards it.

"Where the hell are you going?" The dark haired man demanded heatedly, as Shizuo moved to open the door.

Shizuo looked over his shoulder lazily, flashing him a grim smile.

"Well, you need a first aid kit, right? We can't go anywhere until we've managed to patch you up a little. In fact, you're not going anywhere ever again if we wait much longer." Izaya grimaced.

"Well, how do I know that you're not just abandoning me here? Because as you said, it's not like I could follow you." There was a slightly desperate, shrill quality to the informant's voice. It was pathetic in a way that satisfied Shizuo's ego immensely and simultaneously made him feel like a total asshole.

"Well, you're just gonna have to believe me when I say that I'm not going to let you bleed to death back here. How's that for a trust exercise?" The blond laughed without any real joy and took a couple of seconds to take in the look of utter distrust and horror on Izaya's face. Surprisingly, he found himself looking away fairly quickly, suddenly repulsed by the sadistic joy he felt at having the informant at his mercy like that. Somewhere, deep down, he began to pity the dark haired man and felt obliged to protect him. He knew that he had overdone it and felt the need to redeem himself for it.

"Shizu-chan...if you're not coming back I..." It wasn't hard to guess that Izaya had been about to say something like 'I'll never forgive you' and had then thought better of it when he had reminded himself that the blond man most likely wouldn't care.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm not leaving you back here, Izaya." Shizuo said with his back to the informant, sounding more serious than he had ever before. "I will come back as soon as I have found something we can use to treat your wounds. You have my word on that, even if it doesn't mean much to you. And if I don't come back, then you have to assume that those monsters managed to kill me. Do you understand?"

There was almost something like warmth within the ex-bartender's light brown eyes when he looked back at the injured informant. He seemed so full of determination that, for a moment, Izaya really was convinced that his rival was going to go out there and risk his life trying to help him. It left the informant in awe briefly.

Izaya's eyes moved from the blade of the knife he was still holding in his hand to the debt collector and back. Then he turned it around so that the blade lay gently in his hand and moved forward a couple of steps with obvious difficulty, offering the blond man his knife. "Take this with you. You might need it to defend yourself if you run out of bullets."

Shizuo took the switchblade speechlessly.

"And don't die." Izaya added lowly, looking at anything but Shizuo in what might have been embarrassment at the unexpected moment of companionship they were sharing.

"You, too." Shizuo replied, sliding the knife shut gently and putting it into his pocket carefully, like a prized possession. "Try to hold on while I'm gone, don't let anyone in."

Izaya rolled his eyes at that. "Yes, mom, I won't let any strangers into our home while you're out."

"Do you have to cheapen the moment?" Shizuo asked, looking slightly frustrated at suddenly being interrupted while he was making such an honest effort at accepting that, for once, he had to care about the informant's well being, if only because his own life depended on it as well.

"Sorry, I'm not used to..._that_." Izaya admitted, though Shizuo had no clue exactly what he was referring to.

"Alright, I'll be back." And with those words and a gush of wind that rustled his hair as the door opened and closed, the debt collector was gone, leaving the injured and distressed informant to his own devices.

To say that Orihara Izaya almost went crazy in the time he had to sit alone, in an abandoned storage room, surrounded by blood thirsty monsters just outside the door and at the mercy of his arch rival, while he could feel life seeping out of him with every drop of blood that soaked into his dark shirt and jacket, was an understatement.

To tell the truth, Izaya had always had trust issues – courtesy of his parents, who never seemed to give a shit about him – and had never relied on anyone but himself, as far as it was possible. He had certainly never had to trust someone other than himself with his life and having to do so now went against everything he had ever taught himself, broke every self imposed rule he had depended on to survive this long in the kind of business he was involved in.

By the time he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door, he had bitten his lip bloody from pure stress, scratched at his scalp compulsively and had contemplated suicide – although only briefly as a last resort – on several occasions, just so he could feel like he was more in control of his fate.

He was vaguely glad that he hadn't had his knife with him, because he could have done a lot more damage to himself that way. After all, he knew himself well enough to be aware of the fact that he was very capable of dealing with extraordinary, stressful situation. He also knew that, once he had reached a certain limit, he could resort to drastic and desperately reckless measures.

"You still conscious?" Shizuo asked gruffly. His clothing had gained a couple of tears and there was blood on his fingers. His eyes were widened in alert, scanning the dark room quickly and finding his temporary teammate curled up against the wall that was farthest away from the door.

"Ye...yes." Izaya replied, staring at Shizuo, as if he was some sort of fata morgana. He rose shakily from his pitiful position on the floor and managed to take a few steps, before having to lean against the wall closest to him for support, because vertigo made his vision go dark for a couple of very long moments.

There was a hand on his shoulder, steadying him and he just didn't have the strength to shake it off, even though its presence there was as hard to tolerate as letting an irritating insect sit on his skin. Not that Izaya was usually particularly bothered by being touched, heck on certain _occasions_ he really enjoyed it, it was probably just his automatic response to being touched by _monsters_.

"You're back." Izaya breathed, disbelief softening his features and making him almost look like a completely baffled kid. Had Izaya been someone else, Shizuo might have found it entertaining, maybe even cute.


	11. Chapter 11

The blond man fumbled with his hands awkwardly, as he handed a small, red bag with a cross on it to a thoroughly confused Izaya, who almost let it fall out of his hands.

"Wow, you really didn't expect me to return, did you?" Shizuo asked, feeling a little guilty for the distress he had caused his temporary ally. "You really don't trust me, I guess."

Izaya, who had been gazing at the med pack, was now staring at Shizuo, as if he had just teleported here.

"Can you blame me?" Izaya asked shakily after some time and for probably the first time, he was really glad to hear the informant talking again.

"Guess not...I'm sorry, I guess. For scaring you." They were both aware of how forced the apology sounded and avoided eye contact as much as possible. "Thanks for borrowing me your knife."

Izaya simply nodded and let the weapon slide back into his pocket, opening the first aid kit carefully with trembling fingers.

"Thanks for this." He muttered, raising the health kit to emphasize what he was talking about.

"You're welcome." The blond debt collector replied, feeling very awkward with the sudden peace and the forced niceness and formality between them. Izaya felt like even more of a stranger to him, when they were interacting with each other like this. Although they were basically always insulting each other, they had always treated each other with quite a lot of familiarity by doing so.

"I don't blame you for not trusting me." Shizuo said suddenly, trying to come up with anything to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. He watched Izaya shed his jacket and raise his shirt to look at the damage that had been done to his side. They both hissed when they caught side of the wound. "I mean, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

Izaya suddenly chuckled, something that must have hurt, considering the state the skin on his stomach was in.

"If you say it like that, you'd have to trust me an awful lot." Izaya sniggered, but there was something dangerous hidden within his eyes. "Remember that time you did throw me? I flew so far..." A sudden dreaminess filled Izaya's eyes, as if he had actually enjoyed being sent flying down half a block. It was obviously an act. "Man, I was in the hospital for well over a week. I'd never had a concussion quite like that."

It was disturbing that Izaya'd had enough concussions to be able to compare them with each other, but it didn't really surprise Shizuo, considering that he had been the cause of quite a lot of them.

"Yeah, well you probably deserved it." The blond man grumbled and watched Izaya flinch and grimace as he poured some sort of disinfectant liquid all over his stomach.

The informant's eyes were closed and his face was crumpled up in pain, his teeth gritted while he breathed raggedly and waited for the burning sensation to disappear enough for him to move on to dressing his wound.

"Do you...want me to help you?" Shizuo offered half-heartedly, observing the informant struggling to open a pack of sterile compresses, his hands shaking even more than before.

"S'okay...I'm used to patching myself up." Not to mention that Shizuo would have probably had no clue how to dress a wound properly and would have ended up doing more harm than good.

"How'd that happen anyway?" The ex-bartender inquired, leaning against a wall and trying to find something to distract himself from the looming feeling of being completely helpless, of not knowing what to do and where to go.

"I got clawed by one of them. I think he was trying to jump on top of me to pin me to the ground and claw out my intestines –" Izaya shuddered, but continued wrapping a bandage all around his stomach to keep the compress in place. "I'm pretty sure that, if he had succeeded, I couldn't have pushed him off by myself. He was pretty strong...and fast. And he screamed really loudly, I don't really know why. Seems kind of stupid, to announce yourself like that, if you're planning to attack someone. He still sucked at parkour, though."

"Parkour?" Shizuo asked, puzzled. "One of those things knows how to do parkour?"

"As I said, he was pretty bad at it. He jumped like an amateur, wasting a lot of energy and using the wrong stance to land. If he was human, he'd probably break his hands and feet landing like that." Izaya was finishing up, using some sticking plaster to keep the bandage in place. He finally sighed contently and leaned back against the wall in a much more relaxed manner than before.

"You feel any better?" Shizuo asked to keep the conversation going. The worst thing he could think of right now, was Izaya going to sleep – and he looked pretty damn ready to doze off right about now – and him having to deal with this situation alone. It was good to have someone to talk to, even though they both weren't brave enough to really discuss what exactly was even happening.

"Yes, actually. A lot. It's astonishing, really, my wounds barely ache at all."


End file.
